


Western Skies

by CaseTurner



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cowboy AU, Dude ranch, F/M, Gangs, Horses, M/M, Rodeos, Western, Witness Protection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 20:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17629163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseTurner/pseuds/CaseTurner
Summary: After witnessing a brutal murder by the Galra Gang and their leader Zarkon, college students Lance, Hunk, and Pidge are forced into the witness protection program and placed at a dude ranch in the middle of nowhere Wyoming. While there Lance learns that maybe a little bit of hardwork, horses, barbecue and a cowboy are just what he needed.





	Western Skies

“Pigeon! Come here, little birdie!!” Lance cupped his hands around his mouth and made obnoxious tweeting noises.  
  
A window on the third floor slammed open. “Oh my god, would you just stop? Give me a minute, for crying out loud.” A messy mop of brown hair appeared along with a hand, flashing a middle finger down at them. The window quickly thumped shut.  
  
“HURRY UP, PIDGE!” He yelled again.  
  
“Lance, hush. You’ll wake the whole dorm,” Hunk told him in a worried tone.  
  
“It’s fine,” the tall boy laughed. “PIIIIIIIDGE.”  
  
“Shut up!” A voice yelled out from the fifth floor. “Some of us are trying to study for finals!”  
  
Lance broke out into a raucous laugh.  
  
“Sorry,” Hunk called up with a wave. He smacked Lance on the back of the head. “Will you keep it down now? They’re going to call campus police on us? I really didn’t spend all my time studying and passing finals just to end up at the police station.”  
  
Lance smiled and gave his large friend a side hug. “Ah, don’t worry Brown Bear. I’ll make sure no one makes you their bitch.”  
  
Hunk rolled his eyes. “Great, just what I wanted to hear.”  
  
“Pidge is in the hooooouse!” Pidge skipped out of the front dorm building waving her hands in the air. “Guess who passed their last final today with perfect marks?!”  
  
Lance wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a friendly squeeze. “I expected no less from our group’s tiny genius.” It honestly wasn’t a shock to them. Pidge had graduated from high school a year early just so that she could graduate the same year as them, while also acing every AP class that the school offered. Lance was both impressed by her and a little scared of her.  
  
The three of them had been friends since they were five, when Lance’s family moved onto their street in Miami from Cuba. Lance had quickly convinced the others to be his friends and despite having starkly different personalities they remained close through the years. They were more like siblings than friends. Which was why when it came time to choose a university that had all agreed to find schools in the same city.  
  
That was how they all ended up in the beautiful city of Boston. Lance was attending Boston University for astrophysics. Hunk was at Johnson & Wales for culinary. And Pidge was at MIT for computer sciences. The cold just about killed them every winter, and though they missed the hot miami beaches it was worth it for them to be near each other.  
  
“Finals are oveeerrrrr!” Lance cheered as they strode down the sidewalk.  
  
“Thank the lord,” Hunk sighed. “My stomach has been upset for the last week. I think I puked ten times.”  
  
“For someone who eats snails, squid, and chocolate covered crickets, you’d think that you have a stronger stomach than that,” Pidge remarked as she hopped over an abandoned half eaten cheeseburger.  
  
Hunk chuckled. “If you would just try some—”  
  
“Not a chance,” she crowed. “You couldn’t pay me enough.”  
  
Lance grabbed her Red Sox hat and gave a quick noogie. “But Pidgeotto, it’s so good. Everything Brown Bear makes is delicioso! Last week he fed me a um...board—bordalay sauce! It was so good, but it was made with bone marrow!”  
  
“Bourdelais sauce,” Hunk corrected.  
  
“Yes! Bourdelais sauce,” Lance sang with a fake french accent. “At first I was like, nuh uh. Now way am I eating bone marrow. But in the end, he convinced me and it was amazing!”  
  
Pidge snatched her hat out of his hand and covered her messy mop of auburn hair. “I would just prefer to stick with my basic chicken, beef and pork diet, thank you very much.”  
  
Hunk shrugged. “Your loss. Now, where are we actually going?”  
  
“CALLAHANS!” Lance and Pidge cheered together.  
  
\---  
  
“Fly, Pidgey, fly!”  
  
“I’m trying. I’m trying!” Pidge laughed hysterically as she flapped her arms at the side. She screeched as Hunk grabbed her and lifted her high into the hair. “YEESSSS! I’m gonna do it.” She flapped harder.  
  
Lance was bent over from laughing so hard as Hunk twirled her high in the air, while making swishing noises that sent spit flying into the dark.  
  
Despite it being 2am the trio was wide awake and drunk as skunks. Each step threatened to collapse under them and they moved as if the world were tilting back and forth. Laughter danced around them.  
  
Lance straightened and twirled next to the pair. “I feel so goooooooood! Finals are done! I don't have to think about space for four whole months aaaaaaaand we have only one year left!” He fist pumped the air with series of ear-shattering whoops.  
  
“Until grad school,” Pidge reminded him.  
  
“Shush, little bird,” he commanded with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You cannot ruin this moment for me.”  
  
“I can't, but I know a pimple can,” she told him.  
  
Lance shrieked. He ran his hands over his face, touching every bit of skin in his inspection as Pidge cackled behind him.  
  
Feeling nothing Lance turned to Hunk. “There's nothing there, right? She's just torturing me, right?” His voice was panicked.  
  
“There’s nothing there,” Hunk assured him with a pat on his shoulder.  
  
“You are a cruel tiny little human being,” he told Pidge with a pout.  
  
She just gave him a big toothy grin.  
  
“Demon,” he muttered.  
  
Hunk let out a big yawn. “I am so tired. I think I'm going to sleep for the next week straight.”  
  
“You're going to miss our flight then,” Lance told him.  
  
“Ah, Miami heat,” he sighed. “I can’t wait.” His look was dreamy as he stared off into nothing.  
  
“Miami beaches,” Lance added.  
  
“Miami sun,” Pidge threw in.  
  
“Ocean waves.”  
  
“Pina coladas.”  
  
“Spanish music.”  
  
“Spicy food.”  
  
“Girls in skimpy bikinis.”  
  
“Con--really, Lance?!” Pidge scolded.  
  
“I'm not apologizing for that one,” he told her with his arms crossed over his chest as he dodged around a fire hydrant.  
  
“Are we home yet?” Hunk asked behind them.  
  
“Not yet, Brown Bear. Soon though,” Lance said. “Come on let's take the shortcut.”  
  
Pidge stopped dead in her tracks, causing Hunk to crash right into her. “Nope. Not a chance.”  
  
“Ah, come on, Pidge. It's the fastest way home.”  
  
She shook her head. “Not at night! At night it's creepy. Someone could be in there!”  
  
“It's an empty warehouse. No one has any reason to be in there. Besides we’ll be in and out in five minutes. If we go around it's another fifteen minute walk and Hunk is almost asleep on his feet. If he passes out what are we gonna do? I definitely can't carry him. No offense big guy.”  
  
Hunk shrugged. “Too tired to be offended,” he muttered sleepily.  
  
“To the warehouse,” Lance cheered as he skipped forward.  
  
\---  
  
“Lance, this is super creepy,” Pidge muttered unhappily.  
  
“Yeah, I’ve got to agree with Pidge on this one,” Hunk nodded. He looked around the dark building in worry.  
  
The trio jumped at the sound of a loud bang that seemed to echo from every direction. They held each other close as the sound slowly hummed out.  
  
“What was that?!” Hunk hissed in a whisper.  
  
“I—I think it was a gun!” Pidge whispered back.  
  
“A gun? No way,” Lance muttered. “A stray cat probably just knocked something over.”  
  
Pidge shook her head emphatically. “Nope, that was definitely a gun.”  
  
“Guys, we should leave,” Hunk said.  
  
“It wasn’t a gun. Let’s just keep going. We’re almost out,” Lance told them. He grabbed their arms, trying to get them walking again. Since he didn’t truly know the cause of the sound he was more than happy to leave the building as soon as possible, but better to leave in the direction they actually needed to go.  
  
Towing his friends along, Lance led them through a maze of dusty machinery and tipped over boxes. The warehouse had been abandoned years ago and most of the equipment just left behind to rot and rust.  
  
“There’s no dust on the floor,” Pidge whispered, stopping suddenly.  
  
Lance paused and looked back at her in exasperation. “What?”  
  
“There’s no dust on the floor!” She hissed. “This is an abandoned warehouse. There should be dust everywhere, not just up on the machines. And we haven’t walked through a single cobweb. Trust me, I know you haven’t. You would have made a fit by now,” she told him.  
  
He wasn’t willing to argue that point. Spiders were Satan’s creatures sent to torture mankind with their webs made of sticky butt stuff. No thank you.  
  
“So, the place is a little cleaner. I am personally thankful not to be inhaling years of dirt and dead skin cells. I’m too young for that.”  
  
“But if it’s clean,” Hunk pondered, “that means that…”  
  
“Someone else has been through here fairly recently, and since we are not seeing footprints, it was a lot of someones or a lot traffic from a few someones,” Pidge told him.  
  
“Lance, I don’t like this,” Hunk said, suddenly looking a lot more awake.  
  
“We’re almost there. Just need to pass under the conveyor belts and we are home sweet home,” he told them, trying to sound more sure of himself, despite the fact that he was beginning to get very nervous. He felt like his heart was about to beat straight out of his chest. “Come on.”  
  
Walking extraordinarily close to one another they continued to their exit. Their footsteps were almost silent and their voices were. Yet his heart sounded like a drum in his head.  
  
“—after this. I promise, I’ll get you the money."  
  
The trio slammed to a halt at the sound of a pleading voice near them.  
  
"I just need eight more days. Then I’ll get my paycheck. There’ll be enough to cover it all. I promise.”  
  
“Too late, Billy. This was your third warning. You know we don’t like having to ask multiple times.”  
  
Hunk gripped his arm tightly. Lance gently peeled back his hand and made a motion for them to wait. Hunk shook his head and reached out for him again, but Lance ducked his hands.  
  
“Please, I understand now! I will get you the money!”  
  
A sardonic laugh filled the air. “Interesting how a bullet to the leg suddenly makes weasels very compliant,” mused a deep voice.  
  
Lance stepped towards the wall of boxes that separated them from the voices. He shifted slightly and leaned forward, peering through a small gap in the cardboard. In front of him was a scene he knew would haunt him for years. A man knelt on the floor between two larger men who held him place with heavy hands on his shoulders. The floor beneath the man was a shiny red pool of what he assumed was the man’s blood. Tears and dirt streaked the man’s face and fear lined his features. Off to the sides of the three men were two other men with guns that Lance could only assume were military grade. They looked straight out of a war movie.  
  
Standing in front of the kneeling man was a man larger than any of the other men present. He had to be close to seven feet tall and close to three hundred pounds. The man was built like a bull. Lance could only see his back, but the sight of man drew instant fear up in him.  
  
The man on the floor let out a sob as he looked up at the large man. “Zarkon, I swear—”  
  
“Don’t swear to me,” boomed the man.  
  
Lance couldn’t tear his eyes away as he watched the large man step closer. He sucked in a deep breath as the man reached back and pulled out a shiny pistol that had been tucked his back waistline. The kneeling man sobbed louder at the sight of the gun.  
  
“Your vows of loyalty mean nothing. It is actions that speak louder. Three times you have sworn to me that you would pay me back and three times I gave you grace...No more!”  
  
“Boss, please! Please!” The man cried. “Please don’t do this. I—I—I can get you the money—I’ll have the money! Please, no! God, no! St—”  
  
Lance cried out in horror as a loud bang sounded. He quickly clamped a hand over his mouth as the men fell face forward into the pool of blood, a gaping hole in is forehead. The bull turned around slowly, looking directly where Lance hid. Their eyes met for a second before Lance wheeled back.  
  
“Run,” Lance hissed to his friends. No longer worrying about noise the three bolted for their exit. They raced through the warehouse with fear at their heels. They did not slow to check if they were followed. Racing straight out the door they barrelled down the street, crossing intersections without looking and taking corners at top speed. When Pidge stumbled over an uneven sidewalk, Lance grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet.  
  
“Where do we go?!” Hunk cried as they turned yet another corner.  
  
“We can’t go back to the dorm!” Pidge said. “They’ll know where we live,” she huffed breathlessly.  
  
Lance glanced over his shoulder and found an empty street behind them. They were alone. For now. They slowed their run but did not stop. Lance dug his phone out of his pocket. “Ok Google, where is the closest police station?” He asked in a hurry.  
  
With directions, the trio raced to the police station that was thankfully only a few more blocks away. They burst into the station and collapsed on the floor, out of breath and the relief of protection causing the adrenaline to finally wear off. Their limbs felt like jello and their lungs burned.  
  
After explaining that they needed protection, they were led back to a room where a officer took each of their statements. Told they would need to wait, the three leaned on the table, exhausted, slowly sipping the bottles of water they had been given.  
  
Lance jumped as the door banged open, having fallen asleep on the metal table. A man in a black suit walked in and sat down at the table across from them. He dropped a folder between them.  
  
“Mr. McClain, Mr. Garrett, Miss. Holt, thank you for your patience. I am Mr. Kolivan. I am going to be your main point of contact. I work with the FBI. I have read over your statements and we have much to discuss. Do you understand what happened tonight?” He speech was a forward and level.  
  
“We witnessed a murder!” Pidge cried out. “Seems pretty straightforward!”  
  
“This would be a whole lot easier if it was just a murder,” the man told them. “However, you have come involved with something much larger. The murder you three witnessed was not a one-off thing. The men you saw are part of the Galra Gang. Have you heard of them?”  
  
“Aren’t they like the Mafia?” Hunk asked worriedly.  
  
“Yes. They are a Russian mob, led by a powerful man: Zarkon.”  
  
“Zarkon?” Lance interrupter. “That’s what the murdered man called one of them.”  
  
Mr. Kolivan looked at him sharply. “Are you sure he called him Zarkon and was not simply saying the name?”  
  
Lance nodded. “Yes. I’m sure. It is an uncommon name so it really stood out at the time, despite...everything else.”  
  
“It is important that you are correct in this,” Mr. Kolivan explained. “Zarkon is their leader, but no one outside of the gang has ever seen his face, which is why we have had so much trouble finding him and taking him down.”  
  
“I swear to you, they called him Zarkon,” Lance told him. “I...I also saw his face,” he said softly.  
  
“Close enough that you could explain it?” Mr. Kolivan asked.  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
“We’ll have a sketch artist brought in later then. Any info you can give us is greatly appreciated. This man is responsible for many deaths, extortions, and missing persons—who we assumed were also murdered. He is a terror to this city and most of the Eastern seaboard.”  
  
“We’ll help in anyway we can,” Hunk told him.  
  
“When can we go home?” Lance asked. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “We’ve been up for over 24 hours and I am so tired.” It was a tired that he could feel in his very bones.  
  
Mr. Kolivan looked down with a shake of his heads. “I’m sorry, but you will not be returning to your dorms or Miami.”  
  
“What?” Pidge asked. “What do you mean?”  
  
“You three have witnessed a murder by one of the largest gangs in this country and one of you has actually seen the face of their leader who up until this point has been faceless. We have no way of knowing if you were seen, but at this point we have to assume that you were. You three are no longer safe in your dorms and at your houses, where your family will also be in danger.” Lance’s heart clenched at the thought of putting his abuela or his hermanos in danger. “The Galra Gang has infinite resources and they will find you and they will dispose of you before you can testify against them.”  
  
Mr. Kolivan slowly looked at each of them, meeting their gaze. “At this point in time, you three no longer exist. Lance McClain, Hunk Garrett and Katie Holt are no longer. You three are now, if you accept our deal, in the witness protection program. You will be given new names, new identities, new lives. Everything you know will be left behind. Including your things and your families.”  
  
“What?” Lance cried. “Leave our families? No, I can’t! I can’t just leave them,” he told the man. “My sisters, my brothers, they need me.”  
  
“I am sorry, Mr. McClain. But if we allow you to go back to them, there is a good chance you will be killed and them along with you as collateral. Zarkon tends to take out whole families to ensure no info will be passed. Disappearing is the only way to keep them safe. If they truly don’t know where you are, even if Zarkon does appear, they have no info to give and that should keep them safe, along with the protection detail that we will place around them.”  
  
“This is insane,” Lance muttered. “Absolutely insane. We are students! We can’t just leave school.”  
  
“Lance! Who cares about school if we are dead,” Hunk told him softly.  
  
“Mr. Garrett is right. At this point you we need to strip you of anything that makes you you. Your new identity cannot resemble who you are now and that includes your major. School is over.”  
  
“I—We—Um...so...what now?” Pidge finally managed to ask, her mind racing in a million directions.  
  
“First you sign these documents, saying you agree to our protection. Then we’ll have the sketch artist brought in so that Mr. McClain can give us details on Zarkon. Then you’ll be brought to a safehouse to rest, while we work out the details of your placement and new identities. Tomorrow you’ll fly out.”  
  
Lance stared at the man, his mind blank, unable to believe what was happening. Leave everything behind? No more Boston. No more school. No more classes. No more family.  
  
Mr. Kolivan handed each of them a pen and placed documents before them. “We’ll take this one step at a time. Sign at the bottom there.”  
  
Hunk and Pidge slowly scrawled their names, but Lance’s pen hung still just over the line. He looked up at Mr. Kolivan, meeting his gaze directly. “Can you promise me one thing? Will we stay together? The three of us?”  
  
Mr. Kolivan nodded. “I promise.”  
  
Lance signed his name.


End file.
